


A Different Dance

by SincerelyYourNightmare



Series: Avatar musings [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang may be a little ooc, Character Study, Gen, POV Outsider, Sort Of, Zuko Dancing, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, also sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyYourNightmare/pseuds/SincerelyYourNightmare
Summary: Aang really hadn't meant to be spying on his firebending teacher, but once he was accidentally hiding in the bushes, it was hard to make himself move. Because, right there in the clearing, wearing nearly nothing but flames, was Zuko. And he was dancing.
Series: Avatar musings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745338
Comments: 5
Kudos: 281





	A Different Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies about any inconsistencies in referencing events in episodes that may or may not have happened the way I think it did. I don’t even know when this is supposed to be happening, except that it’s after Zuko joins the Gaang and after "The Firebending Masters".  
> I have had a thing for dancing lately, apparently; there're three fics about dancing in my files, crossing various fandoms.  
> I also have a few headcanons and I was feeling whimsical, hence the musings on bending styles and pseudo-philosophy. Sorry if it starts contradicting itself or gets babbly.

Zuko was dancing. 

Aang tried. He really tried not to stare and leave what was obviously an intensely personal moment, but it was just so _awesome_ , in the sense that he was struck dumb with the sight. There were flames, of course, why wouldn’t there be in a Fire Nation dance, but they were nothing like the battle-hardened bursts of yellow that had barely a flicker in them. 

Zuko’s battle-flames were always, _always_ carefully controlled. They had an almost sharp edge to them, as if they would cut rather than burn if they hit the enemy. Aang had never asked but he knew instinctively that Zuko put such attention into his bending because he had decided that he would never hurt anyone by accident; it would always be a decision not made lightly or without care, because fire was dangerous and one could not make mistakes with something that volatile. Wind took persuasion - however little - to bend, water would always return to its container and earth took immense precision and focus to even move a hand’s breadth. But fire, once unleashed, once bent, was out in the world to do as it pleased. 

Zuko was balancing on his toes, his heel not making contact with the ground even once. Aang had proudly earned his nickname of Twinkle Toes (he had a _nickname_!) but he rather thought if Toph were here, she’d transfer over the rights to that name. When Aang moved, it was with no thought to his body; it took a while for him to even learn how to listen to his body. When Katara taught him to do the control exercise in his first waterbending forays, he had to start listening to his body’s movements and it was so alien that he had had to meditate nearly the rest of the day away. Airbending was about pushing awareness outside of his body and letting it spread in the wind, hence all the meditation to keep control, but when he thought longer about it waterbending was also about awareness. It was just a different form. It was recognition of change. Air nomads were all about the impermanence of existence, so it wasn’t that hard of a leap to make, philosophically. Waterbending had lots of symmetry in it and was also very flexible in its execution. Katara had bent an entire lake by accident before; she just needed to be moving her chi in a fit of anger to start water churning. No technique needed. Waterbending forms were usually natural movements refined and systemised; you could learn the basics with no help at all. Earth, though…

Thinking about Toph brought Aang’s thoughts to the uncomfortable way he had learned earthbending philosophy. It had taken many, many, _many_ training sessions, even after he had begun using earthbending techniques, for it to sink in. Earth was standing in the way, saying _no, you move_ and then backing it up with actually not moving. Aang had courage, he could stand in the way of a falling boulder, no problem. He just had to be able to move out of the way if the situation became critical. It wasn’t his fault! Airbending was like that, about freedom and flying and evading. You couldn’t just, just _stay_ , that wasn’t logical. But Toph had shown him the hard way that it wasn’t about deluding yourself into thinking the boulder wouldn’t hurt you, it was about having the strength to make it how you say, to _make_ it not hurt you. Earth was about stability, about knowing the area around you like you know yourself. To earthbend, you had to disrupt the innate stability of your element and leave the result as stable as it was before, without further input from you. It was, unsurprisingly, the exact opposite philosophy of air. 

But fire… Aang watched Zuko spin and crouch and jump and he was sure he had that same feeling he had had after Katara’s first control lessons. That alien, disconnected feeling told Aang he wasn’t getting something that was right in front of him. It was his mind telling him what he was doing was strange and anathema to all his previous experiences. 

Zuko’s flames were coming off his _skin_ , something that should have alarmed Zuko as much as it did Aang. Firebenders _never_ bent flames close to their skin, it wasn’t like they had any more immunity to burns than the rest of the population of the Four Nations. Zuko’s own face should definitely be a reminder of that. But still, there was a firebender, a trained Imperial firebender, twisting in place with sparks coming right off his bared arms and legs. Speaking of which, Aang was glad to see Zuko had at least thought ahead enough to wear only a cloth wound around his private parts and had tied his hair back with a strip of leather. This could have been even more of a disaster in the making than it already was if he had had anything on that could catch fire, like, you know, _clothes_. 

The sparks made Aang pause. Fire wanted to burn as much as it could, that was why bending it took so many strict forms and so much meditation on one’s own chi. In ideal conditions, it actually took more effort to keep fire small than to let it grow. So why was Zuko surrounded by twirling strands of yellow and not a fiery blaze? It must be because Zuko was controlling them, Aang decided and then his emotions caught up with his thoughts and his thoughts screeched to a halt. _What_. 

Fire needed movement to dictate the bending it was supposed to be doing as much as any other element, but Zuko was waving his arms and sometimes stepping in the opposite ways his fire was spinning. Aang was gobsmacked; this was why he was feeling uncomfortable. His brain had known before he did that something was off. Zuko didn’t look like he was bending. There wasn’t even a hint of any of the forms he had Aang practice to death. And still, there were flash flowers bursting opening and falling into themselves, flurries of sparks flowing between them like vines of yellow and red. Here and there an entire formation dropped off, ash falling to the ground; it was quickly replaced by more sparks, more flowers and swirls. Aang felt dizzy just keeping track of what one flower was doing, let alone the whole ensemble. 

It was dangerous. It was beautiful. Aang didn’t understand. 

He couldn’t move. 

An eternity later, Zuko was slowing, his flailing arms making tighter gestures. He was still on his toes, but his spins became lazy, his steps more deliberate than dancers’. His coda included pulling all his individual flame formations into one spinning ball and raising it above his head with both hands, to dissipate it into ash that rained onto his head. In the same movement that dispersed his fire, Zuko fell into an elegant bow over the Flame. 

As if that were a cue to some deeper part of Aang, he could move again. Blinking, he stepped out from behind the bush he had recruited in his effort to stay undetected. He stopped right at the edge of the rock platform Zuko had appropriated for his performance. Since he had a better view now that leaves weren’t trying to get in the way, Aang could see that there were scuff marks all around the space. Wait, those weren’t scuffs. That was soot. Soot and ash very deliberately dropped from Zuko’s formations to be trodden on to produce a masterwork. It was a sun, a flower, an abstract black shape that somehow made Aang quiver even more in his awe. The firebender was standing right in the centre. 

As Zuko jerked out of his finishing pose at the noise of his entrance, Aang bowed into the most respectful version of the Flame. He heard Zuko’s breathing hitch, which only accented the fact that he wasn’t out of breath from his amazing display of control. Aang wasn’t sure what he was going to say because his mind was stubbornly devoid of all thought. Maybe it should be an apology; what he had inadvertently witnessed was unlike anything Zuko had taught him, and therefore clearly not meant for him. 

“Aang,” Zuko said. Aang was glad he wouldn’t have to begin the awkward conversation that was inevitably in their near future. “What are you doing here?”

“Er. Watching you dance? What were _you_ doing?” he asked rather stupidly and his hand twitched with the urge to facepalm. 

“I was dancing,” Zuko said dryly and went over to the pack Aang hadn’t noticed before. He was careful to step only on the lines he had made so his sooty footprints didn’t show in the pattern. “It’s been a while since I could.” 

“Why couldn’t you?” Aang asked curiously. It only occurred to him after the words were out in the world that he knew why Zuko couldn’t – he was out looking for the Avatar for the last few years. Not something that encouraged frivolous actions. Especially not when Zuko had so much pride and he had always been surrounded by his men. “Sorry. Never mind.”

“No,” Zuko said mildly, “it’s fine.” He was picking up his pack carefully so it wouldn’t get dirty.

“Er, you don’t have to tell me, but it looked… It looked really pretty. And difficult.” To be honest, Aang was expecting Zuko to scoff and then never mention it ever again. Zuko wasn’t one to tell people his life story, no matter how close he let his friends. And Aang knew that despite what Katara thought and wanted, they _were_ absorbing Zuko into their friend circle. 

“It’s alright.” Zuko was walking away from the clearing though, so Aang sped up a bit to catch up. “I just need to clean up at the river, or else they’ll be some comment from the Water Tribe when I get back.” 

At the river, while Aang was resolutely staring at the crab-fish and not at Zuko’s basically naked form rubbing the majority of the soot and ash from his body, Zuko broke the silence. 

“Fire-dancing takes a lot of control: like you wouldn’t believe.” Oh, Aang could believe. “Fire created from anger can be directed just as easily as any other flame, but it always wants more. It really doesn’t like being constrained. To fire-dance, your flame has to be accepting of its limitations and utterly serene. That’s what my mother always said. Serene.” 

Aang tried really, really hard not to show his surprise. By Zuko’s glance in his direction and subsequent grimace, he didn’t do it very well. Wasn’t his fault; Zuko almost never spoke of his mother. Well, Zuko almost never spoke of anything personal in general, but his mother especially. All Aang knew was that she was very important to Zuko and Aang could guess that she was the parent he inherited his kindness from. 

“Yeah,” Zuko murmured at the water he was pouring over his head with cupped hands. “She always admired the fire-dancers when they came to the Palace. I bribed one of my tutors to teach me when I was six. I never got very far,” he huffed with a half-smile. “My control wasn’t good enough. Azula’s might have been, but she would never learn something so useless, so I didn’t try to get her to teach me.” 

Aang tried not to breathe too loudly in case he interrupted what may be the only time Zuko ever told Aang something so private. He was invested now and deliberately bit down on a thousand questions. 

“I still remember the forms my tutor gave me, but I never thought…” the firebender looked a million Appa-days away. “I never imagined… so much of it is instinct. I learned dancing, like all nobles do, but it’s just so different. I didn’t even have to think about what I was doing, all I had to do was focus and breathe. And move.” 

To Aang, it sounded a lot like what he did with air- and waterbending, but he didn’t think Zuko would appreciate the comparison right now. It also sounded a lot like what they had done at the dragons’ temple, stepping on stones to activate an ancient mechanism. After studying the forms, it was a simple matter to transform them into movement and by the last three it hadn’t even felt like a kata, more like he was acting out a memory. Aang warily thought about the possibility that one of the previous Avatars had performed the same Dancing Dragon kata at the very same temple. It was actually likely, considering how long it ago it had been built. 

Any way you looked at it, it was incredible bending, and Aang felt a new wave of gratitude flow towards the firebending masters, for giving Zuko a serene flame after all this time with only his rage to use as fuel. It undoubtedly made Zuko a more confident bender and showed him beauty where before there had only been terror. Maybe with his knowledge of both kinds of fire, Zuko could be even more appreciative of what he had gained, by giving up his quest for honour and acceptance into a family and nation that didn’t want him as he really was. Seeing both the dark and the light, so to speak. 

Letting go of the past was something Aang had been told again and again was the path to enlightenment, but he had never really gotten it. Watching Zuko dance was the closest he had come to understanding. Gyatso would have been exasperated to see him as he was now, hanging onto his memory of the airbenders (who were all _gone_ ). ‘The wind is freedom, the wind is acceptance of wherever life may take you, the wind is letting go’. Whenever Gyatso spoke in triples, Aang made sure to memorise the words. Aang was beginning to see that hanging onto what he thought was the airbender way was, in fact, not the airbender way. The airbender way was acceptance and adaptability. 

Gyatso had also always told him that _any_ new knowledge had to be accepted into the whole before there could be peace and balance in a person’s chi. Zuko’s chi was looking more and more balanced nowadays. Aang was a little bit envious of Zuko’s newfound calm, to be honest. Maybe Aang could be learning more from Zuko than just firebending.

He also really, really hoped there was a duet fire-dance that Zuko could show him. That would be _awesome_.

**Author's Note:**

> Aang is an unreliable narrator, of course, he doesn’t see the inner-turmoil-angsty-torture that is Zuko’s reluctance to kill his father, despite Ozai’s many, many failings.


End file.
